Who invented October, is what I would like to know. I would like to know so that I can surprise him (you know it’s a him) at his house and hit him in the face with a banana cream pie. My very least favorite pie. And, now, my very least favorite month.
I used to love October. What with all its freshy, freshness and that whole candy thing shining like a beacon at the end of the month. Fall has always been such an inspirational season. Back to school organization, crisp apples, even crisper days. A person can breath better in the fall. Well, apparently I was simply being lulled into a false sense of security. My new motto? October sucks. Tell your friends.
There have been several small crises (I had to look up the plural of crisis – who knew?) and a couple of major ones that, granted, could have been worse, but were still very unsettling. Highlights? Baby boy in a car accident (he’s sore and shaken, but miraculously unbroken), surgery on my Dad (recovering nicely – his nurse, my mom, may not survive), surgery on my friend’s Dad (doing much better), flood at the shop (what’s the saying? don’t cry over spilled, rusty, toxic water), cancelled vacation (still sad about this one), absentee husband (some nonsense about overtime) and, as ever, dealing with teenage shenanigans (I can’t blame October for that one).
Only thirty more hours.
And I still have that candy thing to look forward to…
Optimism, thy name is Jelly Belly.